


Press, Bruise, Kiss

by kyla45



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: Angst and Humor, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-14
Updated: 2012-05-14
Packaged: 2017-11-05 09:34:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/404923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyla45/pseuds/kyla45
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She saw him out of the corner of her eye, harshly demanding ‘another’ with a low menace in his voice. She noticed the empty glasses, carelessly knocked over. She went to him without thinking.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Press, Bruise, Kiss

She saw him out of the corner of her eye, harshly demanding ‘ _another_ ’ with a low menace in his voice. She noticed the empty glasses, carelessly knocked over.  
  
She went to him without thinking.  
  
“Tahno…” she began softly, hesitating, cursing herself for it  
  
He whipped around with a snarl, “What do you want?”  
  
Korra frowned at him, lifting her chin in challenge, but the heat wasn’t there. All she could focus on were the purple bruises under his eyes, the startling pallor to his face and the messy disarray to his hair, all things she was sure his vanity would have normally never allowed.  
  
“I don’t _want_ anything, I’m just here to talk,” she returned, pacifying, feeling uncomfortable and awkward but unable to leave him.  
  
“To talk?” he snorted mockingly, and every trace of fake amusement left his face in a flood. “You’re here because of that _freak_. You’re here to offer empty condolences, you’re here with that _look_ in your eyes,” he picked up his new glass, his face darker than she’d ever seen it. “Take your pity elsewhere, Avatar,” he sneered.  
  
Pity, she thought. She supposed that was right, only…  
  
She watched him knock back his drink, swallowing it with a grimace, that same harsh tone commanding ‘ _another_ ’ to the bartender. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, ignoring her now, his entire posture screaming ‘get lost.’  
  
Korra ached suddenly, ached because she knew, knew what he’d gone through. And she ached imagining what he was going through now.  
  
She sat down with the force of her aching.  
  
“I’m so sorry,” she said.  
  
He turned to her almost calmly. “How is your being sorry supposed to give me my bending back?”  
  
“It can’t,” she answered honestly. “I just…I’m sorry it happened to you. You didn’t deserve that.”  
  
He laughed again and it rung broken in her ears. “Oh isn’t that precious. After everything you’re going to be the little angel who holds no grudges and proclaims I didn’t _deserve_. How very honorable of you, Avatar. You can leave now, you’ve done your duty,” he drank down his fourth glass, _another_ on his tongue before his glass hit the counter.  
  
Korra didn’t exactly know what she was doing, but she _did_ know what he was saying was wrong. She felt anger swirling in her belly, anger bleeding into her veins for the situation she was in, anger because the bruises under his eyes were so vivd, anger at Amon -- _fury_ at the Equalist for taking away such a huge part of Tahno and replacing it with bitter hurt, for taking something so precious.  
  
“That’s not it and you know it!” she said, her voice rising in mulish defensiveness. “I don’t care about the pro-bending match, I care about -- I‘m not here out of some kind of _duty_ ,” she stumbled on her words and wondered why.  
  
“Fantastic,” he drawled, all bite and venom. He reached for his fifth glass and her hand twitched.  
  
“Alright pretty boy, you really want to do this?”  
  
“Get drunk?” he asked in mock earnestness. “Yes, in fact, I really, really do.”  
  
Her heart shuddered strangely in her chest and she wished she could make it better -- but the idea sounded naïve and silly even in her own head. Her sense of helplessness made her sad, made her angry. She _hated_ seeing him so defeated, so unwilling to insult her with his familiar cocksure demeanor and she didn’t know _why_ she detested it so much.  
  
“Stop,” she threatened, as his sixth glass appeared. She had no idea what he was drinking, but she knew he was drinking it straight, was drinking too much too fast.  
  
“And why are you still here again? Are you hard of hearing? I don‘t want your sympathy,” his words were purely raw anger now, the slightest bit uneven.  
  
“I’m not offering it,” she growled, frustrated with him, frustrated with the hollow look in his eyes.  
  
“Of course you’re not.”  
  
“You’re impossible!” she screeched, “Can’t you just let me--” she halted, aghast at the sentiment that was trying to wrangle itself out of her heart.  
  
“Let you what?” Tahno hissed, “Make yourself feel better by trying to be _there for me_? Gloat? Gawk at the waterbender who can’t bend anymore? Hide the relief that it wasn’t you behind your stupid pity? Here’s an idea,” his voice was low and gravelly and hoarse, “ _Fuck off_.”  
  
Korra knew when she was being threatened, knew when she’d pressed too hard.  
  
But Korra had never cared much about leaving bruises where she pressed too hard.  
  
Abruptly, she stood from her bar stool and stepped into Tahno’s personal space, turning him so she could wrap tight arms around his shoulder and neck, bringing him into an awkward embrace. There was a moment of frozen shock and she heard his glass crash to the floor, satisfied it had still been full.  
  
And then he lashed out, though it was an uncoordinated thing, dulled by alcohol and what she’d bet any money was lack of sleep. She snarled at him and pulled him more firmly against her, however awkward and clumsy the positioning was, stifling his struggle until he relented, breathing hard.  
  
“What are you doing?” he grit, face smushed into her shoulder, tone incensed.  
  
“Listen up pretty boy,” she commanded, moving up a hand to tangle it in his hair and tug his head back. “I’m telling you to stop drinking, alright? And I’m telling you,” she gentled the hand gripping his hair, looking into his unfocused eyes straight on, “I care about you, too.”  
  
His eyes widened and he stared at her like she was crazy. She probably was.  
  
Now that she’d gotten her message across, she pulled him back into her body, squishing him tightly against her until he muttered, “Ease up, would you.”  
  
She did as she was asked, but didn‘t let him go, determined to keep him where he was, determined to show him that he mattered, that he deserved comfort and that this wasn‘t just pity.  
  
While leaving bruises might have been her specialty, she wasn't above kissing them better.  
  
They stayed like that for longer than she could remember, and though they got stares from some of the patrons, she tightened her hold on Tahno as if to shield him, glaring down the onlookers until they glanced away.  
  
She couldn’t remember when she began running fingers through his hair, either.  
  
He never cried, but the boneless way he collapsed against her, the way he let her support his full weight, even the way he held her waist with unsure fingers that gradually tightened -- that told her more than any amount of tears could.  
  
She knew she wasn’t good at this, was _horrible_ in fact, but she would try because her heart was aching for this stupid jerk. So she held him with all her strength and played with his hair like a mother might, trying to soothe away the tangles, and never said a word. His breathing was calm against her neck and that was enough.  
  
Later, she would support him out of the bar, his arm around her shoulder and her arm around his waist, and they’d wander the streets unsteadily because he didn’t tell her where he lived. In silence they staggered, but she never rushed him and never once thought about leaving him. She didn’t complain about the desperate way he hung onto her, either.  
  
She even held back his hair when he bent over to vomit.  
  
She ended up staying with Tahno until the sun started to peek up over the buildings, strangely protective of him, unwillingly to leave him alone and sick with grief.  
  
When they’d stopped to rest on a bench, Tahno asleep against her shoulder, she’d felt a weird urge. As with most urges, she didn’t bother tempering it.  
  
“We could be friends, you know. We’d fight a lot, but that’s okay,” she whispered the words quietly to no response but a sleepy snuffle, but from that day on, she would consider Tahno _her_ prickly-infuriating-pretty-boy-jerk. Or ‘friend’ for short.  
  
When she almost started dozing off, she woke him and finally got some directions to where he lived.  
  
Startling away from her in a comically exaggerated show, as if suddenly remembering the past evening in vivid detail, he was quick to tell her, “You will never speak of this again,” in a bratty hiss, sullen and embarrassed.  
  
“I promise nothing,” she said slyly, reveling in his eye twitch. “Hey, can you walk? You really need a shower,” she chortled at his expense as he growled and threw a punch that was too easy to catch.  
  
“There, there, pretty boy. We’ll get you pretty again in no time, you’ll see.”  
  
He let her support him with a tremendous amount of grumbling and insulting. She was beaming inside, glad the darkness wasn’t showing in his face as much.  
  
And when she helped him into his apartment and was turning to go, he huffed out a great breath, looking pained, “You’re a loser,” he told her, but then gave her something resembling a smile, tired and awkward, a gesture that looked unused, but Korra grinned at him because she didn’t do _feelings_ , either.  
  
“And you smell like one,” she returned, and she left laughing with his outraged expression clear in her mind.  
  
But it was so thankfully clear of the hopelessness that had been painted there before.  
  
She resolved with a fierce might that if she could, she would give him his bending back.  
  
After all, she was the Avatar. And he was her friend.  
  
It would be fun, too, to whip the chump’s ass again -- teach him the way _real_ Pros bent.  
  
She was determined.  
  
In fact, she looked forward to it.

**Author's Note:**

> Oh God, I couldn’t even help myself. This show is doing things to me and I guess I ship Tahno & Korra now, along with every other ship. I know everyone’s doing the H/C thing with these two and I just had to join in. My bby darlings, guh. My love affair with Tahno is rather epic.
> 
> This is set a couple of days after the incident, I suppose, because I wanted to write their interaction when Tahno wasn’t completely vulnerable. Because I like his sass, hurr. ALSO I just, I really want Korra to be able to give people back their bending, cause I’m with every single person who thinks Amon is full of shit. _Pleasepleaseplease_
> 
> Oh and also totally inspired by a beautiful fanart by brumous @ her tumblr -- got my fingers crazy in gear and it's such a lovely piece, too. Words cannot even express how much I love it.
> 
>  
> 
> ~~the title is so misleading in a sense but I was feeling metaphorical and subtle today, forgive me~~
> 
>  
> 
> So anyway please do leave a comment if ya please, sugar bears :)


End file.
